


i'm born too late for these ghosts that i chase

by yulbos



Series: apotelesma [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Gen, M/M, i mean this is like....... unbelievably super pre relationship, so far off in the distance in fact it's but a spec on the horizon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 14:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14979311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulbos/pseuds/yulbos
Summary: "It strikes him, not for the first time, as he pushes the front door open and the little bell above the door tinkles, just how strong the magic in this place is."or: just because they have magic, doesn't mean they know what they're doing with it





	i'm born too late for these ghosts that i chase

**Author's Note:**

> so, i've wanted to write haikyuu fic for a _really_ long time. like.... years. and it wasn't really until recently that i found the motivation to actually do it. anyway, i love magical realism/modern fantasy and i've recently gotten into playing dnd so this was the natural progression.
> 
> i'm over on [tumblr](http://yulbos.tumblr.com)

Kei watches the crush of people pushing their way through the subway and has to take several deep breaths, fighting down the panic he can feel slowly uncoiling in his belly. Not for the first time, he wonders which particular bout of madness drove him to move to arguably the busiest city on Earth. Especially when he can’t stand people. He steels himself and shoulders past a group of teenagers, young enough that they should _definitely_ be in school at this time of day, sneering when one of them yelps at him. One of them, a tall boy with bleached blonde hair, starts to cuss him out, but he makes a show of pulling his headphones over his ears as he steps onto the nearest escalator. He wraps one hand firmly around his bag strap, tucking it into his side as much as he can, and shoves the other into his jacket pocket where he curls his fingers tightly around his phone.

There’s a lull as he reaches the small strip of shops that separate platforms from the station exits; most people are more interested in getting to wherever they’re meant to be than hanging around a dingy subway station. Kei stops for a moment, buying a bottle of water from a nearby vending machine and using the time to reorient himself. He watches men in smart business suits use their briefcases as pseudo battering rams to climb the stairs leading up to the street above, and after a brief pause, follows suit. It’s not exactly cool outside, being the height of summer means that the sun is firmly at home in the sky, but after the sweltering heat of the underground it almost feels like it. Enough to have him tugging the zip of his hoodie further up his chest, at any rate. He steps out of the way of a particularly cantankerous looking old man, hooks the bottle between two fingers, and sets off on his way.

The walk to the university is pleasant, almost. It’s perhaps a little too warm for Kei’s liking, but given that July is bleeding into August and they’re in the middle of a heatwave, it’s not overly surprising. He wipes at the thin sheen of sweat that’s gathered on his forehead and then pushes his sleeves up to his elbows. The streets are quiet, even for a late Tuesday morning, and Kei takes his time.

He stops at the alley his favourite coffee shop resides in, checks his watch and quickly weighs his options. There’s the better part of an hour before his first class, but if he goes in now, he’ll constantly be checking the time. He shakes his head, turns around, and carries on walking. _After class._

Fifteen minutes before class starts and he finds himself slouching against the wall opposite their lecture hall, long legs stretched out in front of him as far as comfortably possible. His fingers tap against his thighs in time to the quiet music he has playing. No one else has shown up yet, which isn’t unusual. In the three months he’s been in Tokyo, Kei has yet to be anything other than the first to arrive for _any_ of his classes. He checks his watch, small smirk falling into place when a familiar voice calls out to him from somewhere to his left.

“Good mornin’, Tsukishima!” He rolls his head to see who it is, even though he already knows. They’ve got a routine down, now, and he won’t be the one that ruins it. One of the pins on the noticeboard he’s leaning against digs into the side of his head and he pushes away from the wall with a tiny huff.

Inouka Sou watches him straighten his clothes with a bright grin. It should be annoying, having someone watch him as intently as Inouka does, but Kei finds he doesn’t really mind. Partly because he’d stayed up too late studying last night and is suffering the consequences this morning, and partly because he doesn’t find Inouka as irritating as he maybe should.

“Morning.” He resettles himself against the wall, careful to avoid any notices or stray pins out to get him, and bites back a yawn. He tugs at the cord of his headphones so they slide back down around his neck.

Inouka laughs, loud and cheery, as he makes himself comfortable a few feet away. His bag hits the floor with a dull thud, and he crouches down to rummage through it, notepad getting dumped unceremoniously onto the lino. “You’re as talkative as ever.”

Kei hums, uncapping his water bottle and taking a sip. The taste of watered down watermelon hits his tongue and he scowls, lifting the bottle up so he can frown at the label.

“You do the reading?” Inouka asks, apparently having found whatever it was he was looking for, although Kei can’t see any noticeable difference. He tucks his notepad under his arm as he stands back up, and they both wince as his knees crack.

“Of course.” Kei says as he replaces the cap and shoves the bottle deep into the depths of his bag. “Did you?”

They both already know the answer to this, and Inouka shrugs sheepishly, swinging his bag onto his back. “I tried?”

Kei hums again, and that would have been the end of the conversation anyway, but he’s saved from having to make it awkward by the arrival of half their class turning up at once. Inouka is immediately drawn into conversation with two girls Kei only knows by sight.

Thankful to be left alone again, he pulls out his phone and checks his messages. One from Yachi, complaining about how hard her mother’s working her, two from his own mother reminding him to eat “proper food, none of those takeaway meals”, and a few from Tadashi inquiring about his general well being. He shoots off quick replies and by the time he looks back up, their professor is striding down the corridor towards them.

* * *

By the time Kei escapes, he is in desperate need of coffee. It’s not _his_ fault that going over the basics of infections and disease preventions are mind-numbingly boring. It’s not their professor’s either, but he certainly doesn’t help. He sits close enough to the door that by the time everyone’s realised the class has ended, he’s already halfway down the corridor. He slips behind a group of fourth years for cover, just in case Inouka tries to wrangle him into another study session, and then he’s back out on the street.

With two hours before he has to be in another classroom, he heads back to the coffee shop he’d had to miss earlier. It’s not a long walk, but the promise of Akaashi’s coffee has him hurrying anyway and by the time he gets there he’s almost out of breath.

It strikes him, not for the first time, as he pushes the front door open and the little bell above the door tinkles, just how strong the magic in this place is. How it reaches out to greet him like an old friend whenever he steps through that threshold, that things seem a little brighter, a little more surreal. There’s an orchid hanging just inside the door and he pretends he doesn’t see it physically perk up as he enters. Pretends he doesn’t duck his head when he sees leaves reach out for him.

Akaashi’s already behind the counter, apron tied neatly around his waist as he waits for the coffee machine to stop hissing. He looks up at the sound of the bell and smiles. It’s a small thing, almost unnoticeable, and whilst Kei wouldn’t consider himself anything close to an expert on Akaashi Keiji, he’s a lot more competent than he once was.

“Hello, Tsukishima. Your usual?” Akaashi asks, although it’s needless because he’s moving for the right ingredients even before he’s finished speaking. Kei leaves his money by the till, and then turns to survey the room. As if he’s going to sit anywhere else, even when the place is completely empty.

He slumps into his usual seat by the window and drags his bag onto the table. He neatly piles his textbooks beside his right elbow and then gets out his laptop, gazing out the window as he waits for it to boot up. He watches an old lady walking her dog across the street, levitating the ball just out of its reach and laughing when it barks at her. Two teenagers pass her, more interested in seeing who can light a cigarette with their fingers first than to where they’re walking and they jump when a car horn honks at them. There’s such an easy acceptance of magic here, and it never fails to take Kei’s breath away no matter how often he sees it. 

“Here.” Akaashi’s voice is soft as he places a steaming mug of coffee beside Kei, smiling again when Kei startles slightly.

“Thanks.” Kei says, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn’t look up again until he knows Akaashi is back behind the counter, and even then he refuses to look in that direction.

There’s soft music playing from somewhere, although Kei’s never been able to figure out where the speakers are. The longer he listens to, the more relaxed he feels, and after a moment or two of staring at the wall like an _idiot_ , he switches his attention back down to his laptop and flicks through the topmost textbook to the relevant chapter. The small potted plant on the table seems to hum at him, slightly out of tune as it follows the beats of the music and Kei does his best to ignore it. Instead, he focusses on his homework; finding an easy rhythm as he writes up his notes on therapeutic agents.

He manages to get most of it done over the next hour or so, and is just about to begin packing up his things when the bell above the door tinkles again. Two men, who can’t be much older than he is, saunter through the door and over to the counter. Well. One of them does. The other stays by the orchid that had tried to greet Kei earlier, the ring on his middle finger knocking against the ceramic pot as he pats it.

“Akaashi!” The one nearest the counter exclaims, having apparently not even noticed Kei’s in the room. He takes the baseball cap he’s wearing off so he can run a hand through his hair, and either he has the worst case of hat hair in human history or it actually defies the laws of gravity. Kei isn’t close enough to tell.

There’s a beat of silence, as Akaashi stops doing whatever it was he’d been up to in the back room, and then his head appears around the doorframe. His frown lessens slightly when he sees who it is and his voice is the gentlest Kei’s ever heard it when he speaks. “Bokuto. Kuroo.”

“Ya never answered my text.” The one Kei assumes to be Bokuto accuses.

Akaashi’s frown returns as he pats his pockets. “You didn-. Ah, sorry.” He shrugs, almost helplessly.

“Doesn’t matter.” Bokuto brushes the apology off with a wave of his hand. “You’re gonna come, right?”

“Didn’t you learn your lesson last time?” Akaashi asks, hands on his hips. Kei thinks he can hear a laugh somewhere in there, although he’s never actually heard Akaashi be anything other than calmly polite. “That ghost stuck around for a week, if I remember correctly.”

Bokuto rubs at the back of his neck and smiles. It’s _the_ most sheepish expression Kei has ever seen on another human being. “We’re better at it now, though!”

Akaashi stares the pair of them down for a few moments before sighing. “Fine. I’ll come. But if anything goes wrong, then we’re never doing this again.”

“Fair enough.” The one that must be Kuroo says. It’s the first time he’s spoken, and his voice isn’t what Kei had expected. He’s not exactly sure _what_ he had expected, but this isn’t it.

“Alright! Ghost hunting!” Bokuto actually punches the air, like an excited child.

It hits Kei, then, what they’ve been talking about and he feels his stomach drop. Necromancy. They’re talking about _necromancy_. He shoves the rest of his stuff into his bag, his laptop closing with an audible snap. He thinks he does an okay job of hiding his panic, even if he does avoid Akaashi’s eyes as he slips his headphones over his ears and practically dives out into the alley.

He pauses when he reaches the main street, chest heaving. _Necromancers? Fucking really?_


End file.
